Broken Wings
by ALostHeart
Summary: It is splendid. It feels incredible. It gives him a reason to smile every day. It makes his chest expand and takes his breath away by the scarce notion of her name. It is unlike anything he's ever experienced before. It is sentenced to die the moment of its birth. AU/AH One-shot.


**Hi everyone! How are you? I know, I know, long time no see, and I'm supposed to update A Breeze of Hope, but this idea just wouldn't leave me until I wrote it down. Now, I gotta say that I was inspired to write this by one of my fav Arabic songs. First it was a mini drabble, then a drabble, then a one-shot, then... this... A REALLY long one-shot. And it's set in late 1700s or early 1800s**

**This is dedicated to lilins (or Lilinss here on FF) AKA Ingrid AKA tumblr wifey because her birthday is coming up and I am mean and want to dedicate this to her even though it might not be the best idea. **

**Also, a special thanks to parathormone who took the time to beta this and to approvesomuch for making this BEAUTIFUL cover :D **

**As for the rating, I was going back and forth on how to rate it. But I think it's safe to say that this goes between strong T and light M. **

**I'm gonna shut up now, promise.**

* * *

**Broken Wings**

* * *

To many it may not mean anything. To many, it's as trivial as any other painting in this gallery. Many would pass by it, not sparing it a second glance, except for her.

Oh _her_.

She would stop. She would stop and see and recognize the distinct style and the usage of color. She would stop and watch and know just how much this painting holds behind its colors, and what story lies underneath the brush strokes.

* * *

_Abandonment.  
_

The first word in his vocabulary, the first word he experiences, even though he cannot fathom its meaning.

An eight year old in the backyard of a mansion, holding an apple in his hand and a sad look in his eyes, he watches. Through confusion and spite, he watches. The father he never had, he watches. The laughter and smiles of his siblings, the jokes and the playful grins, he watches. Denied of all, he is. Just when he would dare to step in, just when he plucks up the courage to ask to join the game, the father's –his father's face would harden, and away he would be ordered.

Tugging at his mother's dress, he begs. Asking for an explanation with innocence hiding volumes of pain and rejection behind the blue eyes –the teary-blue eyes, he begs. No explanation is provided, just a sad smile, a nod and turn from her. Away she faces, back into the house she goes and even more confused Niklaus, the boy with sad blue eyes, is left.

* * *

_Art.  
_

It's the second word of which he carries on for his entire life. Little Niklaus, now ten years old, with the idea of the world as unclear as ever to him, alone sits in the garden, a piece of parchment and a mess of colors around him. What's a boy's perception of art other than bright colors? Some may ask, what's his knowledge of painting other than the servants' smeared aprons, the dinner table, his mother's smile, or the green garden with yellow flowers? But, no, Niklaus loves black. Black, red and dark blue fill the painting. It's nothing but a mess of colors. A dash of black, a streak of blue, and a lot of red.

Yes, red.

Just how fascinating is this color? It can appear as the brightest and most cheerful of colors to the darkest and the deadliest of all.

A hand clamps down on his shoulder. His father stares down at him through cold eyes.

"I made this" Niklaus shakily says, reaching the painting towards his father, hands trembling and eyes dreading.

"What is this?" the father snaps, not bothering to take the picture and gesturing to the reddened sheet. A chaos unintentionally made by the boy

"Look at this mess!" he exclaims.

"I'm sorry, father" Niklaus says shyly "I just wanted to paint"

"How absurd! It's nothing but meaningless doodles and colors that sour the eyes" the father cries "you should have spent your time reading and learning your lessons instead of this mindless fun you foolish boy"  
Without a word further, Niklaus is dragged to his feet and roughly pulled back inside.

"You must read, you moron" the father says, not sparing a glance towards his protesting son "You shall wash up and join your brothers"

"But I don't want to read!" the boy shouts, pulling his small hand from the father's clutch "I want to paint"

"What did you say?" the father turns, eyes blazing with anger, tone threatening and a promise of punishment lying behind his voice.

"I want to paint, father" courage fading, Niklaus gulps down his tears. And he knows what is to come for him. He knows what punishment will befall him.

"Is that so?" the painting is taken away from him and shredded to pieces within seconds, and he is shoved into the hands of a servant to be cleaned and dressed and thrust into the library where his father shall meet him immediately.

The painting tools are thrown away.

He gets new ones.

He is thirteen years old now and still hiding behind his canvas. His mother would secretly buy the tools for him, and away in his room he would hide them, away from his father's eyes and away from the world's. He dares not paint in his father's presence. Only when he steps out or when busy with guests does he allow himself a moment of quietness behind the comfort of his colors and paint brushes.

He lets no one in while painting.  
No one but his partner in crime his little sister, Rebekah. She would watch him with adoring eyes as he smears the canvas with colors. With a somewhat clearer perception of the art before him, Niklaus pours his heart and soul into his paintings.

No one sees them but Rebekah and, on occasion, Elijah, his older brother.

Rebekah is too young to understand them. It still fascinates her. And in her heart, she dreams of the day her brother would become great like he says he would. And smiles, knowing finally it would be the day he wouldn't have to hide away.

Elijah, however, knows. He sees through the art and right into Niklaus's heart and soul.

"You use so much black and red, brother" he once says "I wonder why"

"I like black and red" is Niklaus's short reply that he gives with a small smile.

He stops showing his paintings to Elijah afterwards. He sees it in his big brother's eyes. The sorrow, the knowledge, the understanding, but his brother still stands idly by, as helpless little Niklaus strives for acceptance.

And Niklaus knows, he _knows_, that through everything and after all is said and done, the only thing that would never leave him is his art.

* * *

_Shock.  
_

Eighteen is an old enough age for him to know.

With a heart as fragile as the crystal vase on their dining table, and the pent up anger of the world, he roams, unknowing of his future and abiding to his father. No matter how much he tries, it does not matter. Niklaus would never have his father's approval. He would never have his acceptance nor his love. It is a fact known in Niklaus's heart; and no matter how much he tries to ignore the urge to satisfy his cold-hearted father, his attempts fail. His every instinct still craved attention, wanted a smile or even a nod, an acknowledgment of his existence. But no. It never happens.

In a rainy night he faces his mother. With a heavy heart and unshed tears, he speaks, searching for a mistake he made, seeking for a solution, wondering what he has done so awfully wrong that his father despises him so much.

But it is not his mistake, Niklaus finds out.

He is not his father's son, she says, or so she thinks.

A wild affair coincides with the date of his birth and a rage of conflicts that took over their house and tore the spouses apart. They hardly spoke while passion towards another man consumed her. He's not his father. And Esther, his mother, thinks that her husband knows. They never talked about it, she says, but he knows… or so she thinks.

Niklaus wastes no time. He packs his painting tools, takes what little money he's got and storms out of the house.

He never comes back.

* * *

_Rebellion._

Niklaus Mikealson is dead. Or so does the world think.  
His sister weeps –locks herself in his room and weeps. His mother sobs for nights and is caught in a haze of never-ending melancholy. And after frantic searching for their brother, his brothers also give up and mourn him. And Mikeal, the father, even though he wants to say good riddance, cannot help but think that his doing drove the young man away, to his demise, as they believe. His doing, though, not his fault.

Nonetheless, a sense of sadness never quite leaves the house; the weight of guilt almost sends it crashing down on its inhabitants. They wonder what differently they could have done, or what mistake they could have undone. Perhaps if they have not stood idly by while Niklaus got emotionally abused, maybe if they have embraced him, made him feel like he truly belonged, like he was important to them he would have still been with them.

But, eventually, the wondering ends. And their life goes on with a silent prayer in their hearts and laced in their eyes that he finds happiness, wherever he is, whether alive or dead.

Niklaus Mikealson is dead. And in a sense he truly is.

He goes by Klaus. Make no mistake, he is not Niklaus. He is Klaus –just Klaus. No second name, no last name, no father and no family, just Klaus.

He sells his paintings, for far less than what he believes they deserve, but it is enough to buy him a ticket out of the country. To the New World, they say, a land filled with promise, where artists and writers and rebels relish in their misdeeds. It is where everyone runs towards.

Towards freedom, away he runs, from everything and everyone he knows. Ties cut, family gone, friends vanished, he is free and away he flees.

It's a land of promise, he is told, and it's all too overwhelming when into it he first steps. Unfamiliar and lost he feels, holing nothing but colors, paintbrushes and canvases –the excess of his eighteen years, but he is happier than he has ever been.

In a dirty room, he settles, with a writer who is as broke as he that he cannot afford the room's pathetic rent alone. Stefan Salvatore asks no questions. He wonders about no stories, makes no comments, calls him Klaus (or Klausy when he feels particularly cheerful. Something that Klaus finds annoying but endearing all the same) and takes him out to show him how he lives his life.

Stefan writes, but no one wants to read his books. He writes down his thoughts but no one wants to read about what he thinks. He writes about freedom, about equality about lust and desires and the human nature. He writes so bluntly about his rejection for everything that goes on around him and his disapproval of leading a life pre-planned for him.  
But most of all, he writes about love.

Klaus is fascinated with his new friend. He is fascinated by his courage, by his thoughts, but especially, he is fascinated by his friend's writings about love. They are spell-binding and exquisite, he thinks. They show love in its purest forms and its ugliest territories. They take his imagination far away. And he has a new found love for words, the words that his friend's pen so eagerly etched even though he knows almost no one will read them.

But Stefan is a rebel.

Klaus too is a rebel. He resents everything around him, all the shoulds and shouldn'ts. They remind him of his father, of his strict thinking and one sided opinion. He rejects his life. He rejects his past. He rejects his fate.

So he joins Stefan in his rebellious indulgent life. With liquor, women, and all that's out of the ordinary they live their lives, seeking greatness through their drunken haze. One day they will have a great future, the now-best-of-friends believe. And as rebels are, they are reckless and fiery and impulsive. Driven by passionate fire and the burn of emotions, they live. And Klaus… he is no longer the innocent boy who came to seek a dream away from the grasp of his past that is nothing but a lie. The stormy blue orbs are no longer sad, innocent, confused or even gentle but spark of mischief and the fire of disobedience and a determination as solid as a rock occupy them.

He is no longer an innocent boy. He is a rebellious young man.

Niklaus Mikealson is indeed dead.

* * *

_Seduction._

It's a game between two. A game that is more pleasurable than the result itself. The slow burn, the longing glances, a smirk from him and a batting of eyelashes from her. The small touches, the secret smiles. It's enticing, exhilarating, thrilling. And Klaus has grown to love this game a bit too much over the course of his new life.

But it always, always ends as soon as the prize is delivered. He never allows it to linger.

He's twenty two now. And has not moved a single inch in his grand scheme of becoming great. He is just living a life that seems meaningless, more often than not, searching frantically, and sometimes even desperately for something to thrill him. A new rush of adrenaline, a new game, a new passion. But nothing sparks his interest. And he wonders –he lets himself wonder, for the briefest of moments, to where he is headed and to what end his life would lead? For he is marching in place. Not a single step forward.

Stefan begs to differ. You're doing what you love, he says, and that in itself is great.

Klaus paints all day, every day. He paints for living and he paints for pleasure. During day, he chooses a spot at the side of the road and sketches portraits of passing ladies or gentlemen who are looking for amusement. During the early hours of night, he paints whatever his imagination dictates him before he goes to spend whatever money he's earned during the day on whatever pleasure he decides is for the night.

He is content. Or so he convinces himself.

But there is emptiness always surrounding his life.

Until her.

She is just another passing young lady with her friend. She is just another young lady searching for amusement. She stands in front of him, giggles happily and bats her eyelashes at him.

"Sketch me" she demands with a voice as sweet as music.  
Her attitude is playful, blonde curls bouncing, blue eyes shimmering and unwavering energy that makes it hard for her to stop moving. He chastises her teasingly for making it hard for him to sketch her beauty. And she answers him with a ringing laughter that makes the whole world shine and makes Klaus's heart skip a beat.

She stands still for a total of two seconds, and in those fleeting moments, Klaus allows his eyes to drink her in rather than simply sketch her. She is a radiant woman, beautiful and absolutely breathtaking. Her smile is innocent, her attitude endearing, but her eyes hold a spark of mischief. It is as though she is looking for a way to rebel, to unleash a fire that she has been withholding, and Klaus, more than anything else, is captivated by those eyes.  
And he secretly wishes he can play his favorite game with her.  
His trance is broken when she starts fuming in her place again, this time giving him a coy smile, daring him to stop her. And a smirk splits his handsome face; indeed he would enjoy this game with her.

Except that he should know better. Her attire speaks of high status and her grace only confirms that fact.

But, Klaus has never been good with following the rules.

"It seems the young lady is insistent on taunting me" Klaus says, smirk still intact and dimples winking at her.

"Oh I'm sorry, sir" she says without seeming sorry in the slightest "I thought you'd like a challenge" she shrugs her shoulder.

"I indeed, do" he says, his voice coming deep and low.

And her eyes snap to his, holding his gaze for a few seconds, the smile slowly returning to her face as she seems to understand what kind of a game he's decided to play.

And the spark of mischief in her eyes tells him that she, too, is willing to play.

"Caroline!" her friend finally snaps them out of their reverie "We need to get back home. Your mother will be angry beyond belief if we are late"

"Oh relax, Elena" Caroline retorts at her friend, irritated. She is too busy with her guests to notice"

"But she explicitly warned us about being late," Elena insists.

Caroline sighs, glancing over at Klaus briefly, as he quietly observes the two young ladies,

"You just love ruining my fun, don't you?" Caroline complains.

Elena raises her eyebrows at her, "There's no time for indulging you, especially if you insist on prolonging the process of the sketch," she scoffs.

"Fine" Caroline rolls her eyes "We'll go".

Elena seems to release a breath as her friend steps away from the painter to join her. But her relief is short lived when Caroline turns back to the handsome young man and says over her shoulder "I'll be back another day" she says coyly.

Her brunette friend shoots her a disapproving glance once they are away from The Painter's spot which Caroline answers with a questioning one.

"You know you shouldn't play with fire" Elena answers "You'll get yourself burned".

"I know" Caroline smirks "But it's still fun".

**. . .**

Klaus barely sleeps that night. His mind is filled with the playful, giggly blonde and his sketches consist solely of her. His imagination runs wild as he tries to commit those beautiful features into memory.

Stefan notices his peculiar behavior, his curiosity enticed when Klaus refuses to accompany him for their nightly rituals. Late that night, at his return, he catches Klaus still sketching by the dim candle light.

"She's beautiful" Stefan comments, looking over one of the many sketches.

"She truly is" Klaus breathes his agreement.

"Where did you meet her?" Stefan's tone is playful. He's never seen his friend sketch so repeatedly any of his former whims (Make no mistake, Klaus does not like calling them lady-friends) ''Is she even real?"

''My imagination is too poor to conjure up such beauty, Stefan'' Klaus replies casually "She asked me to sketch her today"

''She must have made quite the impression on you" Stefan grins.

''She's captivating" Klaus murmurs, smiling to himself while his hand continues to work on the sketch before him.

Stefan fights to hold back his amusement over his friend's genuine smile, one that he rarely sees. He takes a seat on his worn out bed instead and rests his elbow on the table next to it where he usually writes as it creaks with his movements.

''Do you know anything about her?" Stefan inquires nonchalantly. During the past years that Klaus lived with him, Stefan managed to gauge next to nothing about his friend. It does not truly matter to Stefan, for he refuses to linger on the past, but Klaus's behavior seems more interesting than his dark, shadowy paintings. Stefan had his flings. He falls in love a lot, and gets his heart broken even more without a care in the world. Just an experience, he would tell himself, a way to unleash his passion. Klaus, however, seems to put an arm's length between himself and everyone else. And Stefan finds himself continuously wondering about what made his friend so guarded.

And when it comes to love, Stefan never saw him go anywhere near it.

Lust is a whole other matter.

So imagine the grey-eyed man's shock when Klaus's eyes sparkles with admiration and he speaks with a hint of smile in his voice "Just that her name is Caroline. And that she appears to be aristocratic"

Stefan's eyebrows shoot up ''You really shouldn't get involved with those, Klaus''

"Don't be a hypocrite" Klaus gives him a brief, incredulous glance before focusing back on his sketch "We both know that neither you nor I care about shoulds and shouldn'ts. Not to mention how many times you have been involved with noble ladies, some were even spoken for"

Stefan raises his hands in surrender and shrugs "I hope you see her again"

"So do I" Klaus replies.

And, indeed, he does.

The next morning, as he sets his tools, a man advances towards him. He looks around mid-forties and his confident strides scream money and title.

''My daughter came for a portrait yesterday" the man says frankly. It's not a question, but a firm statement ''And I gathered that you never had the chance to finish it''

Klaus's eyes spark with recognition. He goes through his tools, until he extracts Caroline's portrait.

''I finished it from memory, sir'' Klaus says politely, successfully hiding his disappointment at the fact that she did not come to pick it up herself.

''Ah, yes'' the man answers but dismisses the sketch with a gesture of his hand before he speaks again ''but this won't do. My daughter seems to admire your work and I am willing to pay you as much as you wish for an appropriate portrait of her. You would come to my house where there's a suitable setting for you to do that."

Klaus is quick to agree, eager to see the captivating goddess again.

"Make no mistake, son'' Caroline's father starts again ''I am very protective of my daughter''

Klaus nods, frowning. You see, he's perfectly capable of hiding his emotions; he's become a master at that. Some may call it a defense mechanism, but truly Klaus finds it very helpful, it neutralizes his feelings towards everything, unless he wants to show otherwise –At least that's what he thought until the father uttered his last sentence. Maybe it's his young age or perhaps his daughter's enthusiasm, Klaus thinks. Either ways, he does not feel as threatened or as intimidated as he should, or as the father wants.

He never follows rules, so why start now?

**. . . **

There is a flaw in every father, several even. In some cases they are indifferent, in others they are cold, and sometimes they are cruel much like Niklaus's father (Not Klaus's, though. Klaus has no father).

In Caroline's case, it is his inability to deny his daughter any of her desires. His wife is blunt about it, scolding him more often than he would have liked about his softness towards their sweet daughter. He never listens to her still, and that leaves her to deal with her daughter's stubbornness. She must be harsh with her to balance out the father's behavior, but once he comes back home and sees his daughter's dissatisfaction, all the mother's efforts go to absolute waste.

Caroline is by no means foolish. She knows exactly what power she holds over her father's kind heart and often uses it to gain what little freedom that is not allowed to any other girl in her age and state –that is, an unmarried eighteen years old girl.

But you see she is bored. She is so very bored. True, she loves her life, loves the lavishness and the luxury, loves all the posh dresses and the way her father spoils her. However, it is so mundane and unfulfilling. She goes on day after day living an elaborately planned life. She must be doing something or preparing for something whenever the clock ticks –Balls, parties, lunches, meeting possible suitors, and stuffing her body into a corset; piano lessons, art lessons that really teach nothing about art, reading books and chatting about all things unimportant with all people who are equally insignificant. Even more mundane is the suffocating authority of her mother "Do this! Don't do that! That's inappropriate for a lady, Caroline! No you cannot travel alone. No, you must meet this suitor. Stand straight, sit straight" she keeps chanting. Just thinking about it makes Caroline yawn.

So you really cannot blame her that she is bored.

And her boredom is exactly what leads Klaus into the hallway of her home.

He loathes the house as soon as he sets foot in it. It reminds him of his own house back in London. The expensive furniture, the thick carpets, the servants running about their business, it all screams memories back at him. And in a twinge of guilt he remembers his sister who he has last seen sleeping blissfully and unaware of the fact that she would never see him again.

The bitter smile is quickly wiped off of his face as he is led to the library. It is vast with large windows illuminating it. It is better than any other condition he has worked in.

He sets down his tools and waits patiently for the beautiful blonde to make an appearance. A few minutes pass before he hears a hustle near the door.

''Caroline, that's an evening gown'' a feminine, but firm, voice says in a hushed tone.

''Relax mother'' there's impatience as well as annoyance in Caroline's voice ''It's a portrait. What does it matter what time of the day we are now? No one will know when it was painted"

Klaus chuckles lightly.

Caroline does not give her mother the chance to reply; instead, she steps into the room to meet the handsome artist followed by her mother who is eyeing his smirk-wearing face carefully. He nods politely towards her although it comes out rather cynical with the smug smirk he is still wearing. Whether it is his intent or not, no one can tell exactly. The mother glares back at him, conveying a threat of which makes him want to scoff. However, the urge and the smirk fade away once he is distracted by the subject of the mother and daughter's argument mere moments ago.  
Caroline is wearing a red dress, its color contradicting deliciously with her creamy white skin.

Klaus discovers a new found love for the color red. He never realized how _seductive _it can be before this particular moment.

* * *

_Hunter/ prey_

All good things come to an end.

When Klaus plays his favorite game, he always falls into the same role. He is the hunter. She is the prey.

Not with Caroline, though.

Sometimes, in fact so many times, the roles would get confused. They would switch places only to go back to the original arrangement. What is the original arrangement you ask? Who knows! It seems that he is the one advancing sometimes while she is an unsuspecting victim. Other times, she gives him that coy, smug, smile and he is a lost cause.

When Klaus ponders his thoughts this night, he decides it doesn't really matter who falls into what place. And it will never matter. Because he has never been enthralled as much as he is right now with her.

She is enticing and radiant. Smart and mischievous, but innocent, pure, and warm all at the same time. A deadly combination, he concludes. A deadly combination that has the ability to break his heart and shatter his being like no other has ever before.

And sometimes, Klaus finds himself wondering whether this is enthralling, or downright frightening.

He is her way to rebel –her only way to rebel. With Blue eyes, blond hair, deep voice, sweet dimples that only emphasize his not-so-innocent intentions when he smirks, foreign accent, and ragged clothing he waltz in. Well, his clothes are ragged compared to their surroundings. He seems so out of place in the posh library of theirs, but oh so right where he belongs at the same time. Because he is the only form of rebellion she can have. Her mother despises him and he is everything that a young lady like her should not be acquainted with. He screams danger and trouble and scandalous misdeeds with his over-confident swagger. Even as he walks through her home every day to complete the portrait of her, he acts like he owns the place. It's cocky and inappropriate and flat out rude.  
Caroline loves every bit of it.

Make no mistake, Caroline may like this form of rebellion, may tease him and respond to his endless and dangerous flirtations, but by no means does she intend to take this any further. She simply relishes in the livid glare her mother shoots Klaus (Now she knows his name, and its hard syllables and heaviness on the tongue makes her even more curious and attracts her all the more towards the handsome, young painter. Not that she would ever act on this attraction), they give her a sense of satisfaction that she has finally succeeded in doing something that no one would approve of.

The act of rebellion is not only in the fact that she spends her entire afternoon shamelessly and baldly staring at his handsome features as he continues to paint her with those rough hands of his that stroke the canvas so very gently, but also in returning the favor of secret smiles and the sparkle of mischief in his blue orbs that she is all too happy to answer with one of her own. She knows she is leading him on to no avail because even though Caroline wants to rebel, she is too smart to be seduced into an affair that shall only lead to heartbreak.

Make no mistake, she is no fool. She knows the exact outcome of entertaining such a possibility, she knows nothing will come out of it and even if it would mean adventure like no other she could ever have, she shall not burn herself. Oh, she loves playing with fire, playing around the fire, being only an inch away from the fire, but she is not willing to burn herself. And it is guaranteed for her to burn should she go any further with this. She is not willing to throw her whole life away for such an adventure.

At least, that is what she likes to believe.

"Where are you from?" she once asks.

His eyes meet hers instantly, an amused, but questioning look in them.

"I've never been anywhere other than those four walls" she answers his unspoken question with a shrug of her bare, enticing shoulder "My father would never let me travel even though I'd love nothing more than that" she adds in an almost incomprehensible murmur.

"I'm from London" he casually answers, eyes drifting back to the canvas before him. He tries with all his might to capture every detail of her captivating form. Soon, though, he finds that doing her justice would be almost an impossible task. He also realizes that it is extremely difficult to stare at her throughout the whole afternoon, in that red dress that shows too much of the luscious skin for comfort, without having his imagination run wild. Not that he is putting too much effort into stopping the images that invade his mind. He paints while his mind wanders, almost going insane imagining the skin underneath all the fabric and his fingertips ache to touch her, his lips run dry and he wants nothing more than to drop his damned brush, stroll over to her and slam his lips down on hers in a crushing, bruising kiss that would leave them both breathless and hungry for more.

But he doesn't.

"Tell me about it" she enthusiastically asks. There is a spark of curiosity in her eyes, anticipation of what he has to say. He very much enjoys it.  
He smiles softly at her. And it is the first time that his dimples wink without a smirk that holds so much meanings behind it. His smile is gentle and genuine. And Caroline's knees seem to go weak, barely able to hold her up straight anymore.

''It rains a lot there, always so cloudy. The sun barely ever comes out. And it's very crowded'' Klaus ignores the stab of pain as the remnants of his past self make an unwanted reappearance "But it is beautiful" he adds after a brief pause, a slight sadness invading his eyes as he speaks ever so softly, like his words would break a fragile memory should they come out any louder or any harsher. He remembers painting the crowded town once, and hiding it away from the scorning eyes of his father. He also remembers that he sold it, and now he has nothing but the vague memory of his childhood home.

Her eyes are wide with wonder at his words, mind racing a million mile a second imagining his description, trying to comprehend the image of the city. And even more fascinating than his words are, is the look in his eyes. They are distant, as though he is reliving every detail of his life back there. Away from her and the painting he seems.

"Why did you leave" she asks before she can stop herself. And by the way his body goes stiff and his smile falters, she immediately regrets it.

"There is no place for me there" is his casual reply. He tries to feign nonchalance as he returns to her portrait before him but fails, for she mirrors the look of sadness in her melancholic smile.

They do not speak any further, not only because Caroline's mother decides that she has nothing more important than to read in the library, but also because neither seem to want to break the bubble in which they have retreated to. She wonders, so very incessantly, about what lies behind those intense blue eyes. And he wonders just how long it will take him before he can get her out of his mind.

Klaus saunters into Caroline's house on his last day with a tightening in his chest. During the week in which he made daily visits to her house, she has occupied his thoughts like no other before. Every drawn out gaze, every word whispered, every smile bestowed, all echoed through his mind, tormenting his dreams and filling them with fire. His heart swells at the thought of never seeing her again, of never having the chance to kiss her, to touch her, to have her.

But as he enters the library with a smirk, and stares at her form clad in that seductive red dress, he knows that he shall not deny himself this desire and that he would have what he wants.

Rules are damned.

She seems almost as sad as he is when he tells her that he only needs to put the final touches on her portrait and then his job would be done. And latches onto silence as he works, gazing at him like she has done many times before. It feels different this time, though. She studies every detail of his face, drinking in every feature, wanting to commit it all to memory. She is going to miss him, not just because he is her form of disobedience, but because she will not have an excuse to see him again. And Caroline lets herself entertain the possibility of kissing him for the first time.

Why not? She really, truly, wants to. He is handsome. He most certainly finds her beautiful. And she knows that he wants to as well.

If Caroline is being honest with herself, the reasons for why she most certainly should not even begin to entertain this thought are many, many more.

Caroline's internal debate is cut short by his voice. He steps away from the canvas, looking pleased with his work, and motions for her to come forward to see it. He has eyes only for her when she gazes on to the painting, studying every detail of her face, trying to gauge her reaction. Her eyes are wide when she first looks at it. Klaus cannot quite tell if it is with wonder, shock, or disappointment, and, despite how ridiculous this sounds, his heart sinks with the idea of that last possibility. For some reason, he wants to impress her, to please her. Well, he knows for what reason but pretends that he doesn't.  
Alas! She smiles, shaking herself out of her reverie and turning to him. She's awed as she looks at him. Eyes warm and lips stretched in a beautifully breathtaking smile. He returns it with one of his own, a wide, genuine and gentle one. She has only seen this smile once when he told her about his hometown. Her heart flutters, an effect he so clearly has on her and it is the only push she needs. Without thinking any further, or at all, she stands on her toes and presses a quick, sweet kiss to stubble-wearing cheek. His smile immediately wavers, eyes going wide at the burning effect of her chaste kiss. She grins at him, looking steady when her insides are twisting with nervousness and shock at her own actions.  
It is a goodbye, she reassures herself. No harm would come out of this.

Or so she thinks.

"Thank you" is all that she says as she gazes up at him with those warm blue eyes.

He wants to say something, anything, but words seem to escape his mind and his throat constricts unable to form a single syllable. He just holds her gaze, wanting nothing more than to lean in, brush his lips against her inviting ones, feel them moving against his, savor the sweet taste of her mouth on his tongue, burry his hand in her blonde curls. If the small kiss she left on his cheek sent such a powerful spark through his body, then her lips on his ought to burn him alive.

He would welcome the fire with arms stretched wide.

The only thing that stops their intimate silence is the sound of Caroline's mother nearing the door of the library. Instantly, they put more distance between their bodies that were far closer than appropriate without them realizing it.

Indeed, all good things come to an end. But Klaus, as he leaves the house, knows that this is by no means the end of this _great_ thing.

* * *

_Desire  
_

It brews slowly, gradually, driving Klaus to the edge of insanity with each passing day. You see, Klaus during the past a few years has learned something very important… he learned to take what he wants at any cost. He learned to give his heart all that it desires despite all hurdles.

He desires nothing more than Caroline.

It is crazy. It is irrational. It is very much undoable. And he loves that.  
Klaus does not stop going to her house. He goes there and stands by the gate during the exact hour in which he used to spend painting her. He would hide behind the bushes when servants leave the house, or guests enter it. But he would continue lurking behind her door until he catches a glimpse of her.

It is ridiculous. It is juvenile. It is such a waste of time.

He does it every day anyway.

The first time she sees him, it is the low fence that helps him. She steps out on the balcony of one of the many rooms along with her friend that he saw her with the first time she asked him to sketch her. Even though he cannot see her face clearly from his spot, he knows that she is surprised and shoots her a smirk. She doesn't return it, proceeding to talk to her friend, completely ignoring him.

He doesn't care. It takes time, he thinks. And even though he does not necessarily like waiting, Klaus can be a very patient man.

The second time she sees him is through a window. Unlike the first time, it seems like she looked for him rather than accidently saw him. He can see her more clearly. He watches her frown, then roll her eyes when he smirks at her. It makes him chuckle while he heads back to his usual spot at the side of the road.

He knows what kind of game she is playing. And he is all too willing to play.

They continue on this mantra for quite some time. She would purposefully step out onto the porch or the balcony of her room or the big windows of the living room during the exact hour that she knows he will be there. Whether she does that to assure herself that he is pursuing her still or for the simple curiosity of when exactly will he stop showing up, he does not know. Either ways he always smirks at her, sometimes gives her a small wave then leaves.

After a week or so, she begins stepping out of the house in that exact hour. Klaus considers this a progress that he is all too happy about. The first time seems like a coincidence especially when she turns the other way as soon as her eyes meet his. Klaus is still insistent and in the exact same spot the following day.

Before she knows it, Caroline makes it a habit to go on a stroll in these hours. She goes with a few of her friends almost always, sometimes with her mother, but never alone and Klaus must discreetly hide behind the nearby bushes where only she can see him. Because oh, even though she would deny that claim right in the instant it is spoken, she most definitely searches for him the moment she passes the gate.

Klaus has fallen back into his usual place as a hunter in this childish game of his, except that the lovely, beautiful Caroline is anything but an unsuspecting victim. She understands his motives perfectly, relishes in his attention even. And her curiosity, her goddamned, unyielding, incessant curiosity is what leads her to leave the house alone (After a prolonged argument with her mother) to take her usual walk this time.  
Caroline knows, she knows that he would approach her should she be alone. This is what drove her to leave alone this time in the first place. Why would she want him to do that, you ask? It can be truly her damned curiosity, or it could be the simple fact that she wants to reciprocate whatever it is that he is offering. Not that she would ever admit that for he loves, after all, the thrill of chasing her and she loves being chased just as much.

Klaus is not one to disappoint. As soon as he realizes that she is alone, he steps out of his hiding place only to grab her elbow and pull her in with him.

"Mr. Klaus!" she exclaims angrily. Considering that she does not know his last name (Because he doesn't have one. That's what he said when she asked him) she is obligated to call him Klaus whether intending to be friendly, scolding or formal "That is very inappropriate"

"I am not one to care about formalities, love, I think you know this by now" he muses. Stepping closer to her, he trails a hand from her elbow to her face, where he brushes her cheek ever so softly. He knows that he is overstepping his boundaries, but cannot bring himself to care when the feeling of her skin under his fingertips seems the most extraordinary thing he has ever experienced. Oh, he forgot how beautiful she is.

She falters, the angry fire in her eyes losing its fierce spark as they widen in shock. Her form stills, gulping down at the unfamiliar sensation his gentle touch sends through her. That makes him smirk deviously. It encourages him to rest his palm freely on her soft skin, cupping her cheek and running his thumb over it gently. It takes her several minutes before she can process his actions and swat his hand away. The insolence never leaves his face though. He gives a smug, knowing smirk and clasps his hands behind his back.

"Mr. Klaus!" she, again, cries "That is no way to court a lady"

Caroline miraculously manages to keep a steady, stern voice. She even manages a firm attitude by crossing her arms over her chest, almost facing away from him.

He chuckles, the sound coming deep from his throat. Uncaring for her obvious disapproval of his actions he steps closer to her still, his voice losing its playfulness to be replaced by soft, seductive whispers. He dares to lean in, his breath tickling her ear as he whispers "I think there was enough courting going on in there, Caroline" He points to the general direction of her house. His words, the way he whispers them, the way her name rolls off of his tongue all send a blush to Caroline's face.  
It's something he very much enjoys.

"Aren't you presumptuous?!" Caroline angrily huffs, turning her back to him completely. If asked why she did not move yet from her spot and continued to walk down the road, she would not know the answer. Or perhaps she does know the answer but would not like to volunteer it for anyone else or herself for the matter.

"Am I now?" he muses, his eyebrows shooting up and an amused smirk replacing his devious one.

"Yes!" she firmly says, turning back to face him "You're presumptuous and delusional. Even a little creepy with all the lurking you've done in the past while"

"Come on now, sweetheart" he starts, shaking his head "We both know that 'lurking' is not just my doing. You cannot possibly expect me to believe that standing by the window or sitting on the porch or walking out of the house in this particular hour is a coincidence, do you?"

"Well, it is" she tries to sound convincing, but it is a lie even to her own ears. He tilts his head to the side, giving her a chance to take back the lie. Caroline huffs, uncrossing her arms and letting them slump by her sides "Look," she begins seriously "this was fun. All the flirting, the lurking, the smiles, but that's all that can happen, going any further with this would not be just inappropriate, but also scandalous. And I will not let this happen. I know nothing good would come out of it"

His smirk turns into a wolfish grin that makes him look even more attractive, yet emphasizes his dangerous intentions "Oh, love" he says, stepping close to her again. He takes a step forward only for her to take one backwards. He keeps stalking towards her until she is caught between his body and a tree. She swallows loudly, her tongue darting out to lick her dry lips, a gesture, although innocent, draws Klaus's attention to her inviting lips. His body is only inches away from hers.

It is the first time that he truly seems to be the hunter while she is a prey.  
He leans in further, his breath ghosting over her face. For a second, she thinks that he is about to kiss her, however, he passes her lips and whispers in her ear instead, his stubble is tickling the soft skin of her cheek and her breathing is heavy at the effect of having his warm body so close to hers,

"Many, many great things can come out of it"

And he lingers there, not saying anything, not doing anything, just trapping her, driving her insane as her mind battles with itself. A part of her wants to crash his lips to hers –a big part of her, but she will not acknowledge that just yet. The sane part of her is telling her to push him away from her, slap him across the face, shout at him endless obscenities and call for help.

She does neither, standing in her place and waiting for his next move instead.

When he finally speaks, it seems breathless "You're so beautiful" and when he adds "Caroline" it sounds like a helpless prayer, almost a plea that makes her heart swell and leaves her unknowing of what she should do or say.

He pulls away a moment later, smirk gone, grin absent and all the infinite confidence vanished. His eyes are soft as he takes in her features. His hand is gentle as he slowly –so very slowly this time, tucks a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. And when he holds her amazed gaze, he looks like a different person than the one he was only a moment before.  
Caroline does not know whether this quick change of attitude pleases her, intimidates her, or irritates her. She does not know which part of him exactly she prefers either.

None of this matter.

Because this time, Klaus's intent is rather clear. When his eyes drop from hers to her lips, she knows what he is about to do, but cannot, for the life of her, muster the strength to stop him. Her eyes drop to his lips as well, and all she can think about right now, is how those full, plump, luscious lips would feel against hers.

He hesitates, though. For the briefest of moments Klaus hesitates, for as he stares at her, as he drinks in every feature and every inch of her face, she looks so innocent to him. And he feels a pang of guilt at the idea of smudging her innocence.

Klaus presses his lips to hers hungrily.

* * *

_Love_

Wild, crazy, passionate, sudden, exhilarating, deep, insane, irrational, are all words Klaus would use to describe the love he shares with Caroline –or thinks that he shares with her.

It is splendid. It feels incredible. It gives him a reason to smile every day. It makes his chest expand and takes his breath away by the scarce notion of her name. It is unlike anything he's ever experienced before.

It is sentenced to die the moment of its birth.

Impossible and reckless is their love. And it would hurt them both. Or so Klaus think.

He never speaks of that with Caroline, nor does she bring it up. It is something they both know, but leave unspoken and unthought-of.  
And how can they speak of such a thing when all they have are these fleeting moments? They hide in the shadows, sneak around away from everyone's eyes. A few stolen kisses, a few spoken words are all they have. They would never let the knowledge of the awaiting agony disturbs their little, naïve dream.

Klaus knows that it is naïve. Klaus knows that it is impossible. He knows that it is sentenced to death the moment it is born.

This knowledge makes it more exciting. Every deep kiss feels more precious, every languid touch seems more urgent, every spoken word is more desperate, every smile, every gaze, every breath seems priceless.

Klaus does not know, though, how deeply, madly and irrevocably he falls for Caroline.

She is magnificent, everything he has ever wanted in a woman without even realizing that he desired. She can be crazy, challenging, fierce, infuriating, but warm, innocent, and sweet all at the same time. The gentle touch of her hands is enough to drive him crazy. The smile that graces her features ought to stop his heart one day. The spark in her blue eyes is so enchanting that he can spend hours just staring into them.

If only he can have hours with her.

He opens up to her, talks to her, tells her the full story. It happens gradually, slowly, but with each uttered word he feels like a weight is being lifted from his shoulder. Talking to her seems as easy as kissing her after a while. He would miss her the days that they would not meet.  
He keeps reminding himself that their love was sentenced to die before it truly began. And he keeps telling himself that he will be ready when its slaughter arrives.

Still, a night with her changes everything.

Her parents are out of town. She sneaks out of the house. Away from the servants' eyes and towards his house, or rather room, she heads. When Stefan sees her at the doorstep, he lets her in only to excuse himself a moment after, shooting Klaus a smirk as he leaves the couple alone.

Stefan has seen the change in his friends attitude, has seen it in the many drawings and paintings Klaus has dedicated to Caroline. At first it was amusing, but gradually, Stefan grew anxious. Klaus was falling in love, so very deeply, more so than anytime Stefan had before.

But heartbreak is guaranteed in this love story that Klaus has gotten himself into. And Stefan worries, he worries that his friend will not be able to catch himself before hitting the bottom and shattering to a million pieces.

Caroline and Klaus do not know how exactly it happens. By no means did they plan that night. Sure, they both knew her parents would not be home for a few days, but neither of them spoke of late night rendezvous. Not that it matters in the slightest, for this is the first time that they have the chance to go further than kissing.

Caroline gulps down her nervousness at the thought. She knows that there would be no going back if she takes this step. She knows that if anyone finds out, it would be a scandal, but as his lips meet hers all rational thoughts flee her. She wants this, wanted it for longer than she would admit even. And he wanted it the moment he laid eyes on her, and every moment since.

He can be a gentleman, pull away from her, hold her and relish in her warmth against his. Except that Klaus is a selfish man. He is even more selfish when it comes to Caroline. And when she seems as welling as he, all thoughts of taking the highroad disappear.

This kiss feels different than all else before. It starts off sweet, gentle, loving then gradually turns passionate, frantic, hungry. It leaves their lips swollen and bruised, leaves them panting and craving more. They barely pull away, merely enough for them to breathe. The hesitance in their eyes is now replaced with desire. Klaus's hand travels from her cheek to burry itself in her blonde locks. She reaches out to him, brushing her fingers over his bruised lips. And he kisses her fingers, tenderly, delicately. His eyes race over her features one last time, before settling back on her lips. It is her, this time, the rejoins their lips. His tongue invades her mouth eliciting a sound that is a cross between a moan and whimper. He keeps a firm hold on her head, his other hand wrapping around her waist and crushing her to him, leaving no space at all between their heated bodies. It is him who groans when her hand buries in his hair, tugging on it gently while her tongue battles with his.

And Klaus is sure, he is quite certain, that this is how it feels to be burned alive.

Minutes later, Caroline finds herself writhing underneath Klaus.  
It's unlike anything either of them experienced.

The caresses of his hands, so gentle and soft as they trace her entire frame, leave her breathless, heaving, desperate for more of him. Soft sighs, breathless moans escape her as his lips draw a trail from her neck and down to her chest, his name the only thing on her mind. He stops a moment later, taking his time to gaze at her bare form in the candlelight, the flames casting shadows along her glorious body. She cannot help but blush at his intense gaze, and he smiles at the sight of her. She looks even more beautiful as the pink shade invades the silky, creamy skin.

"So, so beautiful" he mutters breathlessly.

Alas, he slides into her, kissing her ardently as their bodies become one, moving simultaneously, fitting perfectly. All thoughts escape Klaus's mind as he makes love to Caroline, only her scorching kiss, her burning skin against his, occupy his mind.

He feels like he has never felt before, like he has, finally, come home.

The next morning is when he realizes the impossibility of ever living without her. They are tangled up in each other; bodies flush against each other, hands clinging to one another. He holds her tighter to him, gazing at her sleeping so peacefully and beautifully in his arms. Her blonde curls tickle his arm; her hand rests delicately on his chest, her lips slightly parted. The sun gleams through the window, casting shadows over the room and a halo around Caroline that makes her look angelic. Her beauty is otherworldly, and he so desperately wants to capture this image in his sketches, but he does not want to untangle himself from her either.

Klaus wants to wake up like this every morning.

His chest tightens impossibly, a staggering pain shooting through him at the reminder that they can only have this for so long.

He wakes her up with a kiss, a fervent, hungry one that makes her sigh into his mouth despite her sleepy haze. She pulls him closer, even though there is no space at all between their bodies, she even protests at the departure of his mouth, shooting him a small playful frown that immediately falls when he utters the three words, the ones she hoped that he would not utter.

"I love you" he says. She sucks in a deep breath, a warm flutter jolts through her being. Whether it is the sight before her that causes her sudden dizziness or the simple words, she does not know.

"I love you, too" the words escape her mouth before she can even begin to process her thoughts.

Her lover smiles widely, his dimples peaking at her, his lips stretching, his eyes dancing with joy. His heart, she can feel it against her hand, pounding erratically. And it is the most beautiful thing she ever experiences.

As she burrows her head in his chest again though, he loses his smile.

How can he live without her anymore?

He cannot.

* * *

_Promises  
_

He is a man of his word. No matter what misdeeds he has done in his life, Klaus remains a man of his word. Perhaps that is why he ever so rarely makes a promise.

Even less does he believe other people's promises.

Caroline's parents come back bearing news. Ones they consider happy, while the daughter considers as the worst of all.  
She has a suitor. Tyler Lockwood has every intention of marrying her.  
Her father has said yes, and all they need is her final confirmation that she shall give after a few strolls with the Lockwood's son.

"He is an incredible young man" her mother says. It is enough of a hint for Caroline to understand that she must say yes. And how can her parents approve of otherwise when they have tons of business with the Lockwoods?

Foolishly, so very foolishly, Klaus forgets to remind himself that what they have was destined to die the moment his lips met hers for the first time. This news sends the world crashing down onto Klaus's shoulder when she tells him, hardly holding back her tears.

"They want me to marry him, Klaus" Caroline concludes. She is fidgeting, her hands linking and unlinking themselves, weight shuffling from one foot to another while he stands as still and as stiff as a statue.

Only minutes later does he speak firmly, demandingly "Say no, tell them you do not want to marry him, that you refuse the idea altogether."

"I can't!" Caroline desperately cries "You think I have any say in this? All I can do is stall this marriage, but my parents and his both want us married. We will be married."

"Didn't you say that your father would never deny you a wish?" He argues, frustrated with the situation.

"Not this, Klaus. He wouldn't jeopardize his business with Mr. Lockwood. This marriage was arranged years ago, he will not shoot it down now."

"What if you tell him that you are in love with someone else?" he is desperate, out of reasoning, and out of argument, but all he knows is that he cannot let her go. He cannot possibly watch her walk into another man's embrace.

"Are you even listening to yourself right now?" she chuckles humorlessly "You think I can tell my father that I am in love with you? And that he would let you live long enough for you to tell the story"

Klaus sighs heavily, running his hand through his hair agitatedly. Isn't it this moment that he knew would come all along? Isn't it the one that he thought he prepared himself for? He knew that he could not have Caroline forever, so why does it feel like an ice cold water is being dumped over his shoulders while a million daggers shoot through his heart?

"This can't be it, Caroline" he shakes his head frantically, coming closer to her and taking her hands in his "You cannot be saying goodbye"  
"I do not want to say goodbye, either, Klaus" she desperately speaks.

"Then we won't" he sternly says after a short moment of silence "Lets run away together"

"What?" is all Caroline manages to say with her mouth hung opened.

"We'll run away. We don't need any of this. We have each other. We'll get away from here. We can start over, together, Caroline" he says hopefully, squeezing her hands in his.

"But that would put my family through a scandal, Klaus" she murmurs, staring down at their clasped hands. Her brain rakes for a solution, but finds none that would satisfy all parties. She cannot leave her life behind. She does not want to hurt Klaus either.

"Caroline, I cannot live without you" he says as if it is the simplest truth, and the solution is not negotiable "I know it is not an ideal situation but, sweetheart, I do not think we have another solution"

Caroline's tears, despite her attempts to contain them, pour down on her cheeks "I don't think I can do it, Klaus"

"Yes, you can" Klaus encourages, his thumbs running circles over her palms as he speaks.

He is supposed to be the gentleman. He should let her go. And he knows that. But the idea of having to live without her makes him dread his existence. Her hesitance causes his heartbeat to run wildly, unable to stop the nervousness from tearing at his exhausted mind.

"I love you" she says, finally meeting his eyes "and if it comes down to it… I will go with you. I promise".

Her voice is low her smile shaky, her words uncertain, her eyes doubtful. Klaus believes her still.

He shouldn't have.

* * *

_Abandonment_

It is only two weeks after her promise (two weeks of not a single glance or a spoken word) that Klaus finally hears from her.

Stefan brings home the announcement of her marriage to Tyler Lockwood, to take place within three weeks.

The world stops spinning.

Klaus does not believe it. He cannot believe it. He shall not believe it. She promised him. She said that she would always be his. She said that she loves him. She said that she would run away with him.

Stefan hangs his head low, staring at his feet instead of his friend's trembling form as he stares at the announcement, eyes wide, mouth hung opened. The room drowns in silence for an eternity. Even the sound of breathing ceases. And what can anyone say? Klaus, even as he went out of his mind with concern for her lack of appearance, did not reach the level of doubting her words, did not fathom the idea of her stabbing him in the back without so much as an explanation, not even a few petty words to console his pain, to reassure his tears. Not even a kiss goodbye. Does this mean that what this meant nothing to her? That everything they shared was nothing but a lie? A beautiful, magnificent, heavenly lie, and its ugliness is only now showing?

Klaus is not one to wonder anymore. He is not one to spend nights looking for an answer that is not there.

With a cold, hard face, he storms out of their room, leaving an apprehensive Stefan behind and heading towards her house.

It is a cold night, but the house bustles with energy. The family is clearly holding a ball, most likely to celebrate the newly engaged couple. Guests drift into the house with deafeningly loud laughter. Music seeps through the cold air, carrying a sweet melody that taunts Klaus to no end. Is this how it all ends? Will he catch a glimpse of her face only for her to turn her back on him, scorning him and his love?

He pays a servant to call after her, tell her that Niklaus Mikealson is waiting for her. It takes her mere five minutes to be planted right in front of him, right where they shared their very first kiss, with eyes frightened and fists balled. She truly thinks that he is here to ruin everything. But that is not the first thing that Klaus notices about her.  
She is wearing her infamous red dress.

And Klaus, in this moment, only sees red. How can he not when suddenly all he can think about is the fact that the Lockwood boy (Not man, Klaus thinks too little of him to call him a man. He thinks of Tyler to be too little to deserve Caroline. He, too, does not deserve her, but he is a selfish man) saw her in this dress. His imagination probably ran as wild as his when he first saw her.

"What are you doing here?!" she hisses under her breath, frowning at him.

He chuckles, bitterly, sarcastically, feeling poisonous venom dripping from the sound that burns through his bloodstream "Why? Was I not invited, sweetheart?"

She sighs, averting her eyes from his piercing ones "Klaus, this isn't the right time for this, OK? I'll talk to you later"

She dares to start leaving. Grabbing her hand roughly, Klaus pulls her back, crushing her against him, and a gasp of terror escapes her mouth "You are not going anywhere until I hear an explanation from that pretty little mouth of yours, Caroline" he says harshly through gritted teeth, practically spitting her name.

"Let go of me, Klaus" she snaps, trying, to no avail, to shake his hand off of her.

"And you have the audacity to be upset, love" he whispers, calmly and menacingly.

A shudder runs down Caroline's spine. It is not the one she enjoys.

"Look, I don't know what you fooled yourself into thinking" she begins after a moment of silence "but we always knew that whatever we had before was nothing that could possibly last"

"That was before you made a promise to me, love, or have you forgotten about that? Shall I remind when and how and where you made that promise?" his voice remains cool. A calm façade covers his face, making his handsome features look quite malicious.

Caroline licks her upper lip. During the time she spent with Klaus, he has not shown her this side of him. She saw his playful side, the vulnerable side, the artistic one, even the angry one, never this outraged, cold part of his. What else did she expect though? She knew the effect her decision would have on him, felt a sting of guilt with each passing moment, even, but went on with it all the same.

"Things have changed" she says calmly, eyes dropping for a second before meeting his again "I'm sorry, Klaus; but Tyler and I are fond of each other"

His grip on her arm loosens, immediately taken aback by her words. He did not know what to assume when he stormed off into her house, maybe an apology, maybe her begging him for forgiveness, but not this. Not her confession of having affections towards her fia… No, he shall not call him that, towards the Lockwood boy.

He blinks back the hurt from his face, eyes looking anywhere except her eyes, afraid that what he would see there would tear him apart even more

"You are fond of this Lockwood boy?" he mocks "You are fond of him?" he lets go of her arm completely, backing away from her before a sardonic smirk breaks its way to his face "Correct me if I'm wrong, Caroline, but last time I checked fondness was not something you give up love to, hmm?"

"It's not just fondness, Klaus, there are other reasons" she evenly argues.

"Other reasons, right" he nods incredulously.

"Klaus, if you think that your scorn will change anything, you are wrong. The decision was made" she firmly says, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Of course it will not, love, I never believed it will. Nor did I come here to change your mind to begin with, I know better than that. I am here for answers, for explanations that you so carelessly and conveniently forgotten to provide" he clasps his hands behind his back, looking at her expectantly.

"What do you want to know?" she disbelievingly asks.

"Are you seriously asking me that now, Caroline" he waves his hand in the air, another cynical chuckle escaping his throat. Soon, his face turns stern again "Why, Caroline? Was it just a game? Was I something for your entertainment? Was it all a lie?"

Caroline pushes down the tears as they well up in her eyes. She shall not weep. No, she made her choice "How can you even ask me that? Of course it wasn't!" she says indignantly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetheart, if my questions have hurt your feelings, but I did not know what to think of your running off to marry another guy the next day after our promises were made" his tone starts off as mocking but gradually grows harsh. Each and every word he utters holds a million swords behind it, all battling to stab his already wounded body.

He does not show her an ounce of this pain. He will not show her a fraction of his anguish.  
She drops her gaze, staring at the ground that seems to be cracking underneath them, ready to take them under towards a bottomless end. "What you asked me to do is impossible, Klaus, I could not have done it" Her tone is pleading, almost shaking in harmony with her suddenly cold figure.

"Then why did you say that you would? Why did you promise me that you would, Caroline? Why did you give me hope? Why did you convince me that you would fight for me, for us?" it is only now that she hears it. In spite of his desperate attempts to hide it, the hurt breaks his voice in his last a few sentences.

"I did it in the heat of the moment. I wasn't thinking and I didn't want to lose you" she helplessly says.

"And what is this, Caroline?" he gestures to their surroundings "This would somehow not make you lose me? Or did you want to make sure that you can be fond of that Lockwood boy first?"

"How can you say …" Caroline's fierce defense is cut off by Klaus's accusing voice,

"Did you even love me, Caroline, or was it something that you said in the heat of the moment as well?"

"I love you, Klaus, I do" she says, coming closer to him only for him to back away from her. It sends a stinging pain through her being.

"Just not enough for you to choose me" he concludes.

"You asked me to run away, to put my parents, my entire family through a scandal, Klaus!" she argues, her voice is pleading, almost matching what he expected to find when he first came to her house.  
"So this is my fault?" he chuckles "Are you even listening to yourself, Caroline. I'm sorry, love, but this isn't about putting your family through a scandal. We both know that only a few weeks before you were perfectly OK with smearing your family's name by being in my arms, sweetheart. Don't make this look like it is my fault"

"How dare you?" she begins, taking a stride towards him. This time he doesn't move, staring at her bluntly, unwavering.

"Oh I dare. I very much dare, Caroline" he speaks coldly. He, too, steps closer to her, staring at his feet for a moment before lifting his gaze back to hers. Several moments pass, neither able to say anything but stare at each other. And the more Klaus stares at her the more enhanced his pain becomes.

"Just admit it, Caroline" Klaus, alas, breaks the silence with an even voice "Admit that what you truly could not give up was this life. Admit that you want all of this, the balls, the tea parties, the dresses, the posh places, that I was only a means for you to try something new, something exciting. And after all is said and done, you want this life"

"But you meant more than just that to me Klaus, you still do." Her voice trembles, a tear spilling from her eye. It does not soften his angry heart, nor ease his pain "I love you" she adds, whispering.

"I know, I know you do or did" he scoffs "Just not enough. Not as much as I do" his last sentence is barely above a whisper.

"I did what's best for me" she begins "And for you, Klaus, you're a free man. It was only a matter of time before you would want your freedom back and I would be tying you…"

"Don't, Caroline," He cuts her off with a raised hand "your assumptions only make this more painful."  
She gulps down, watching as he turns around, as he walks away from her before abruptly stopping. He doesn't look back at her as he speaks, afraid that his face would betray his pain, afraid that his tears would make an unwanted appearance should he face her again.

"Mark my words, Caroline. This life is not enough for you. It will never be enough for you."

His figure retrieves into the darkness.

This is the last time Caroline sees him.

**. . . **

Klaus laughs loudly this night; loudly, bitterly and humorlessly under Stefan's weary eyes. You see it is ironic. It is so very ironic how his life have come full circle, starting with abandonment only to end with it.

End? Yes end. Klaus is dead.

Well, not in the literal sense of the word. Or perhaps this is the most literal sense of the word ever. Pain looks like a heavenly concept compared to what he feels. So it cannot be anything but death.

The saddest of all things is that he still loves her, with every beat of his heart and every breath of his soul. And he does not think that he can ever stop loving her.

Klaus keeps sketching her continually for days.

Or perhaps he hates her. Because this last painting he currently stands before is his retaliation, his last attempt to make her feel an ounce of what he is feeling. What is he feeling? Is it anger? Is it pain? Is it rejection? Is it depression? He does not know.  
He does know, however, that whatever he is feeling is unbearable.

Or perhaps Klaus has simply gone crazy.

None of this matters anymore, truly. As he stands in a corner of that damned gallery, waiting for her, waiting to catch one last glimpse of her, he decides that this will be his farewell to not only her in his life, but also for love in his life.

He knows she will be here. He sent her the address himself. She will know his handwriting and come. She will be curious to know what it is that he wants.

Caroline enters the room.

Her eyes are roaming the exhibition, bewildered, searching frantically for whatever message he wants to deliver. It will not take her long, Klaus thinks; she will see the painting and recognize it quickly. After all, she knows his style more than anyone.

She stops right where she is supposed to. Her face falls, mouth hanging opened, and Klaus thinks that a sad expression crosses her beautiful features. He does not hope too much, though, afraid that it is nothing but an illusion that his insane mind has thrust upon him.

But it is no illusion.

And how can it be an illusion when what she sees before her cuts so deeply, burns within her, tears at her mind and carves itself into her memory? She sees herself in the painting, sitting on what seems to be a thrown, wearing a white dress. And at her feet kneels a man in ragged clothing. She can only see the back of his head, and she can recognize this dirty blond hair anywhere.  
It is not the scruffy clothing and her grand dress that makes it so cruel. Nor the fact that he is kneeling down at her feet, nor that his knees look bloody. No, is the fact that he is holding out his heart to her while she refuses to even face him, staring back at Caroline instead with a devious smirk on her face that makes Caroline's heart cringe in her chest.

Klaus watches her face twist with shock, then pain, then sadness. He thinks he sees tears forming in her eyes, but has no opportunity to further inspect about the matter for she quickly turns away and leaves the gallery.

This is the last time Klaus ever sees her.

Little does he know, she will be thinking of him the moment she walks down the aisle towards her husband. Little does he know, she will be thinking of him every time Tyler touches her, kisses her, makes love to her. Little does he know, she will regret her decision for the rest of her life, that she will spend hours weeping when no one is watching, that in her final hours, only five years after the last time she saw him, she will be calling out to him and he will not be there to hold her.

Because Klaus leaves right after he catches his last glimpse of her face.

He goes back to his room and burns all the sketches he has of her, hoping desperately that he would forget her face, forget her features, her lilting voice, the touch of her hand, the feel of her lips on his.

He never forgets.

He packs the rest of his things hurriedly, as though every hour longer in that place makes burns him, breaks him, hurts and taunts him to no end.

"Where are you going?" Stefan asks, masking his sadness at the departure of his friend. He hopes that he would give him a name, a place so he might see him again.

He doesn't.

"Away" where he would never care, never feel, never love.

Klaus never goes back, never meets Stefan again, and never uses the color red in his paintings again.

His paintings are filled with black for the rest of his dark, lonely life instead.

* * *

**The Box is right there for you to yell at me or you can do that in my askbox on tumblr (lostheart95). Whatever it is, I'll take it, I deserve it, I'm a horrible human being.**


End file.
